These Vicious Masks: A Swoon Novel

by Zekas, Kelly

  “We should return to the docks,” Miss Grey suggested. “Perhaps they will be waiting there.”

  Sure enough, she was correct—or at least, half correct. Mr. Kent was leaning on a splintery post by the Aurora, shaking his head as we approached. “It took you three far too long to return here,” he said. “Did you not learn that universal tenet as a child? If you ever lose track of your mother, go back to the last place you shared, no other. It’s not terribly complicated.”

  “No, I never read the rule book,” I replied.

  “Perhaps you should get started on that. And on finding Dr. Beck,” he said, checking his pocket watch. “The race started a half hour ago.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We caught the boy and got the address. And because you took your time, Robert—in his infinite wisdom—went on ahead.”

  “He did what?”

  “He wanted to enlist the police’s assistance and go immediately to arrest Dr. Beck.”

  “And you let the fool go?”

  Mr. Kent gave an exhausted sigh. “I’ve never met anyone so impossible to persuade. And it’s not as if I can knock him unconscious with my touch.”

  “He just thinks he’s playing hero,” I said.

  “I thought that’s what every girl wants from a gentleman,” he said, wedging his cane into gaps in the planks and giving Sebastian a pointed look.

  Surprise and confusion momentarily crossed Sebastian’s face. He regained himself and turned to make his way out of the docks. “We must go now,” he said. “If Mr. Elliot went to the police first, we can still catch up.”

  “There’s no chance,” Mr. Kent said. “We need to go to the police, as well.”

  “They’re in league with Dr. Beck,” I reminded him. “It’ll only make matters more difficult.”

  “I doubt he’s spoken to every single policeman. All I need to do is ask each of them whether they plan to betray us, and we’ll have fifty trustworthy men at Dr. Beck’s door in two hours.”

  “In two hours, Robert will be dead and Dr. Beck will be gone,” I corrected and whirled around to follow Sebastian.

  “Please remind me why we’re friends with Robert again,” Mr. Kent said, following me past the busy ships, the salty odors, the endless warehouses, and the rusty front gates. Once we reached the muddy street, he bowed and tipped his hat. “Well, good luck to you, then.”

  “What? You aren’t coming?” I asked, appalled.

  “If you’re truly going through with this foolhardy plan. And I don’t think you need my help for it anyway,” he said, glancing at Sebastian crossing the road to find a hackney.

  “I can’t tell if you are joking, Mr. Kent.”

  “I’m not. In fact, I’ve been so sincere lately that I wouldn’t be surprised if my name has magically changed to Frank.”

  “Excuse me, Evelyn.” Miss Grey tapped my shoulder from the side. “May I come along?”

  “Yes, of course. I just worry it might be dangerous,” I said, glaring at Mr. Kent as I spoke. He pretended to be enthralled by some seagull settling on a warehouse roof.

  “I know, but I must help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you,” I said, my heart thawing a bit.

  Mr. Kent seized my hand. “Excuse us a moment, my dearest, selfless Miss Grey,” he said and pulled me aside, next to a shoe-shining stand, to speak privately.

  “Miss Wyndham, I know you’re not pleased with the shocking things you’ve discovered lately, and I know you’ll think even worse of me when I tell you of the things I did before we met. But everything I—”

  “Sir, you are a liar and a cheat!” a customer bellowed at the shiner behind us.

  Mr. Kent glanced over his shoulder and attempted to ignore the yells. “Everything I do is to—”

  “These shoes are still soiled! The mud is right there! Return my money, sir!” the customer yelled again.

  Mr. Kent bristled and spun around to the shoe shiner. “Sir, are you wrong in this matter?”

  “N-no,” the shoe shiner stammered. “I’m trying to be fair.”

  Mr. Kent turned to the customer. “Are you wrong?”

  “Yes, of course I am,” he said, his face flushing.

  “Then avoid stepping in the mud, shut up, and be on your way! I am trying to convince a girl to love me!”

  Stunned into silence, the customer grumbled and stormed off. The shoe shiner profusely thanked Mr. Kent, who waved him off and turned his attention back to me.

  “Now, where was I? Oh, yes, as I so perfectly proved right there, everything I do is to be the good man that you deserve, and I want you to understand the effect you have had on me.”

  I gave him a sharp look. “Is this really the appropriate time to be discussing this?”

  “It’s essential we do this now, with all the heroics that’ll be going on and the emotions running wild and the hasty decisions being made. I want you to know that you are the perspective I was talking about at the Argyll. You are what makes everything else melt away.”

  “Yet you won’t help me right now.”

  “Must I really die to prove it to you? I know my limitations, and I’m wise enough to accept them. Miss Rosamund may need a hero, and she has plenty of qualified individuals to handle the matter. But you . . . you don’t need one. You need me, just as I need you.”

  He stepped closer and put out a hand to my cheek, forcing me to look right at him. “Miss Wyndham, when I first met you in London, I thought you the most intelligent and the strongest girl I had ever had the pleasure of meeting. She would never moon after some mopey, dark boy. She would look for the man that challenged her, amused her, and made her sparkle and enjoy life.”

  I sucked in air, trying to understand and sort out all the stirrings, the pressure, the knowledge, the trust I felt. But could I? Could I ever love this man, who’d only care for comfort, who’d skate on the surface with wit alone, who’d refuse to let us confront anything deeper, who’d ask me this question at a time like this?

  Miss Grey rolled up with the carriage, Sebastian jogging behind. If Mr. Kent would not join me, I could waste no more time.

  “You are right about one thing, Mr. Kent. I don’t need a hero,” I said in a firm, even voice. “But I could never love a man who would not be my ally.”

  His confident smile faltered. I took Sebastian’s outstretched hand, and he helped me into the carriage, following right after. I refused to look back. But just as Sebastian pulled the door shut, Mr. Kent’s figure appeared on the other side of the carriage with a reluctant smile.

  “Then if that’s what it takes, by all means, let’s get ourselves killed.”

  THE CARRIAGE FLEW north at breakneck speed. Pedestrians dove onto sidewalks, and the occasional constable would blow his whistle, chase us on foot, and finally abandon the futile task in exhaustion.

  Soon, we reached the outskirts of London, where the smog, bustle, and gray of the city opened up to the verdant, hilly scenery and quiet of Hampstead. The driver slowed his pace, bending around corners and rolling past languid Heath Street lamplighters making their evening rounds. Despite the tranquil setting, I still felt bilious, in part from the turns, but mostly from our impending task. Mr. Kent had kept up a stream of babble, presumably to keep our minds off the upcoming fight, but I don’t think anyone had listened to a word. We were all busy trying to form plans without knowing what to expect upon our arrival. There was only one matter of which I was certain: Sebastian and I could not go together to get Rose, unless I wanted things to end as badly as last time.

  Once the driver veered onto the right road, Dr. Beck’s large corner house was not hard to find among the scattered buildings; the two unconscious policemen on the side lawn served as a rather helpful signpost. Several yards away stood Robert, the last man standing, cornered by Claude against the side of the house. My stomach flipped furiously at the sight. We were too far, and Claude only needed a few seconds to do his worst. Frantically, I banged at the carriage roof and turned t
o the men and Miss Grey. Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Kent’s mouth, with its vast experience, proved quicker.

  “Allow me.”

  He leaped out of the slowing carriage and reached into his coat, brandishing his silver pistol, which glinted impressively in the late sun. My body flinched as he fired a shot into the air to draw Claude’s attention away from Robert, then hurdled a fence, and ripped across the vast lawn with unexpected speed. Looking taller and fully the hero, he took aim directly at a charging Claude, sending my heart into my throat, and fired.

  And then somehow Claude had taken the bullet in his arm and taken the pistol away. We heard the distinct snapping of bone, and Mr. Kent was on the ground, cradling a broken arm, while the other man in my carriage was already racing to stop Claude from breaking anything more. I dithered between the awful uncertainty of the fight and the certainty I’d weaken Sebastian by going any closer. My heavy knock at the roof sent our carriage forward with a start.

  As we rumbled away, the house slowly blocked our view of the fight. Mr. Kent climbed to his feet, as if to give us one final reassurance and persuade my heart to climb down from my throat. His words floated back to us on the wind: “Blast it all, you overgrown oaf! What are your weaknesses, besides, of course, the obvious French qualities?”

  The last we saw was the start of Claude’s answer and Sebastian’s fierce leap at the giant. And the three were out of sight.

  “They will be all right, Evelyn,” Miss Grey said weakly. “Mr. Kent’s injuries can wait.”

  “I hope so.”

  The carriage slowed to a pitiful stop in front of the unimposing house. It took everything within me to remain on our side of it as we held our breath, listening for any sound, any sign from the fight. There was only dead silence, broken by the heavy huffs of our horses and the distant smacks and clatter of the street traffic.

  What now?

  I had two choices: wait for Sebastian to handle everything or stupidly charge in and get myself captured or all of us killed. There had to be a better alternative.

  Unfortunately, Robert, staggering from around the side of the house, seemed to disagree. Unperturbed by his brush with death, he headed straight for the front door. Miss Grey and I were barely able to clamber out of the carriage and block his idiotic path in time.

  “Robert, stop!” I whispered sharply, grabbing his arm. “We must wait.”

  He pulled it away. “I don’t need to wait for Mr. Braddock’s help. I can handle this so-called doctor with his cheap tricks myself.”

  “Don’t be foolish,” I said to his back. Ignoring me, he grumbled, rattled the locked door, and finally, as if it had made a personal affront upon his character, he resorted to kicking it in with surprising strength. We watched helplessly as the splintery door cracked open, and Robert disappeared inside.

  Miss Grey gave me an anxious look. “He cannot do it alone,” she said.

  Most definitely not. I forced my mind to move, plan, solve. If Robert could distract Dr. Beck for long enough, perhaps I could get Rose. Would he see it coming?

  “Go with Robert,” I ordered. “Keep him from doing anything stupid. And delay Dr. Beck as much as you can. Perhaps I can retrieve Rose without him noticing.”

  Miss Grey hesitated, not wanting to split up. But I was already making my way inside, down a dim, dusty corridor, passing windows that had all been boarded shut and doors into empty parlors containing the same strange domestic niceties of Dr. Beck’s last house. Eventually, I found myself lingering at a staircase, not knowing whether Rose would be upstairs, downstairs, or around the bend in the hallway. A crackle and creaking snapped my head upward, but when I was mere inches away from the steps, my legs stalled at the sound of a loud, distressing crash echoing from deeper within the house.

  That decided it. My new course led me farther down the curving hallway to a half-open door at the end. It provided a second entry into the laboratory—the massive space, packed with tables, shelves, and boxes, seemed to take up half of the house. A path of destruction marked by broken bottles, retorts, jars, and other unidentifiable apparatuses led to the center of the room, where Robert painfully stood up and wiped his coat free of the debris from a freshly destroyed table. Well, that was a poor job of delaying. In fact, where had Miss Grey gone—

  I spotted a foot. I tasted blood as I bit my knuckles, holding back unhelpful yelps of panic. On my knees, peering between the table legs and equipment, I could see just a sliver of her body lying still by the sink. Instinctively, I was across the room and by her side.

  Dear God. Please be all right. Please.

  My fingers felt for her pulse and found it—slow but still beating. My stifled sigh of relief came out quivering. Staying low in my crouched position, I struggled to pull her out quietly while a wild and furious Robert occupied Dr. Beck with his unceasing shouts.

  “Where is she?” Robert yelled.

  “That’s none of your concern,” Dr. Beck coolly replied as he dodged the many flailing attacks. Finally deciding he’d had enough, the scientist plucked Robert’s swinging fist straight out of the air, and with his other hand he seized a nearby glass rod. He smashed it across Robert’s head and let him drop to the floor.

  The glass tinkled to the ground like rain, joining the thunderous thud of Robert’s body. Then complete silence, except for my quiet panting and a startling burst of laughter. Dr. Beck already knew I was here.

  “Miss Wyndham, no need to worry about your friend there. She’s just been sedated.” Smiling and snaking around tables, he wandered toward me. “My congratulations on your speedy recovery.”

  His face showed no surprise at the sight of me, but I better understood Mr. Kent’s theory. Dr. Beck had only recently discovered that I had these powers and that I had survived. It left me with one last question: How recently?

  “And you claim to know everything?” I snapped. He ignored me, but I persisted. “If you knew everything I was going to do—”

  “I quite understand your point. There is no need to repeat it. Perhaps there are some things that I did not know. You may call them faults, but I prefer to see them as progress. The entire basis of science is founded upon making mistakes,” he said, shoving something into his pocket as he approached. He pointed to the ceiling. “Your sister was one such example. There have been some fascinating developments since you and I last spoke.”

  I stood up and drew back from him, but there was only so far I could retreat. I considered running, but no. I could not leave them. For lack of a better plan, I continued to back away from the short, slim, and terrifying man.

  Then my back hit the wall. He stopped directly in front of me. I endeavored to dash to the left, to the right, but he was always blocking the way. His abilities were all too apparent. He predicted my exact movements and in an instant grasped my face, holding it as tight as a vise. “I’m sure you’ll be as surprised as us to know that your sister was never the healer we believed her to be.”

  I tried to slap him, but his other hand seized my arm before I even raised it. He shoved me down, and my shoulder struck the floor hard. Wincing, I forced the pain away.

  “Y-you’re lying,” I managed.

  “No. I am not. Miss Rosamund has an entirely different ability. It’s not so obvious, which is why it took so long for anyone to discover, but that makes it no less intriguing. You see, the girl can charm the breeches right off of you!” He laughed heartily at himself.

  “As her sister, you know her far better than me. In the past two years, has there been a single person carrying the slightest bit of ill will toward her?”

  He knelt over me, pulling a syringe from his pocket, and I lost my breath. I thrashed my arms to strike him, but he caught one while dodging the other. My legs rose up to kick him and hit only air as he twisted around my limbs before I could process what happened. The needle pierced my arm, and he pushed the plunger and emptied the contents. He grinned as he stood back up, leaving me prostrate on the floor.
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  I staggered back to my feet, trying not to vomit.

  “Miss Rosamund’s gift has always been to charm. I gather it was why she was able to earn her reputation for your healing. Her voice—even her quiet presence—has a captivating effect, and anyone around your sister will, in simple terms, love her. How that love manifests itself varies from person to person, but in every case, it compels everyone to act with her best interests in mind.”

  Was that why Mr. Hale helped us? No, no, Dr. Beck was lying. Trying to distract me. There was no way we were all so mistaken.

  “You would never have been able to kidnap and hold her if that was true,” I replied.

  “Ah, a clever point. But that’s because she did not train and develop her power. It was not as strong as it could potentially be, and we were able to resist. Granted, I’d never felt more abominable about myself than when I was testing her healing abilities and putting her through all that pain. At the time, I even believed I was growing weak and sentimental, but now I know that it was actually my strong will and determination that made the difference.

  “Even Claude, loyal as he is, tried to convince me to let her go. That’s how I first made the discovery. And then I tested my hypothesis on Mr. Hale by telling him about the surgery I planned to perform. That very evening, I caught him attempting to help her escape.” He laughed shortly—staccato, mad. “I feel so foolish for thinking she was holding back her healing out of stubbornness.”

  Something felt strange. The room blurred. My legs went limp and gave out, sending me toppling to the floor like a rag doll. Dr. Beck’s voice still resonated in my aching head.

  “But we had a new problem this morning: We were left without a healer. Then you arrive here and brighten up my day, Miss Wyndham. If I were a religious man, I would thank someone for guiding you to me.”

  My mind begged my body to move, but my numb limbs refused.

  “Don’t worry, you should be feeling tired,” he said. “It’s entirely natural. Just dream of the good you will do.”

  Dr. Beck circled me, his boots sweeping inches from my face. The sedative worked on my blood. My eyes closed, and it took everything within me to fight back. I seemed to lift the entire world with my eyelids.